


Sleep

by KieraRutherford



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieraRutherford/pseuds/KieraRutherford
Summary: After a long journey, you are looking forward to a warm soak. Thankfully someone is there to help you get to it.





	Sleep

After traveling for nearly a month you can see the lights from Skyhold. Sighing heavily, you were near desperate to get to you chambers. Inside, the enchanted tub would be filled with fresh water, waiting for you to activate the heat rune Dagna had imbued into it. Set out beside it would be a tray loaded with fresh breads, cured meats and fine cheeses. If Josephine had particularly urgent need of you, there would be those little honey cakes you love too. On another chair would be a bucket of your favorite scented oils, lotions and soaps. Dorian hasn’t stopped complaining since you left this morning. He missed the comforts of the tavern, the warmth of the bath house and severally other innuendos you casually let slip over your head. 

It’s true, you’ve been pining for your Commander for days. It didn’t make it any better when you fell asleep at camp, your head upon Dorian’s shoulder, muttering Cullen’s name. Your cheeks burn thinking of all the chiding you’ve put up with since then. How many references and offers to ‘help’ from Bull as he clearly enjoyed your aghast looks. Varric was no more help than Bull. He made constant references to a book, and some good writing he needed to get to once he returned to Skyhold. Something he said Cassandra would be interested in. You are all too well aware of how the Seeker prefers her smutty literature. Groaning, you wish your horse would move quicker but he is clearly tired, and you wish him no extra burden to push you the final leg of your journey. 

As he crossed the threshold of the portcullis, you sighed in relief. It was always good to be home. Good to be near the people you knew and loved, in comfort and safety. Dismounting your steed your legs were like jello. Taking a few wobbly steps forward you handed your gear off to the few servants that always meet you upon your return. 

Staggering a few steps, you slowly regain the ability to walk. Each step, while numb and uncomfortable, carries you closer to your bedroom. Someone droned on beside you as you trudged the steps and stairwell into the keep, but nothing stuck. Waving your hand, you mumbled something in the realm “I’ll deal with it later.” Continuing your sluggish pace towards your room, several nobles clamor about you, only to be ignored as you nodded and pushed past. There is dried blood caked through your hair, dirt in more places than you can count and sweat clinging to every bit of cloth touching you. Trying not to think about the colour the water will turn once you get in, you don’t stop till your feet bump into the first step of your private stairway into your quarters. Grumbling and groaning you drag yourself up, one painful step after the other. Every muscle is screaming, and you want in that tub; NOW! 

Removing your armor with no regard for its well being, you leave it where it falls. Your clothes followed, tumbling to the floor. Swiping your hand across the rune in the tub it began to glow. Two large buckets sat by your balcony door, a similar rune set in their side. Tapping them you go about throwing another log into the fireplace. While the servants have stoked it and kept the room warm in preparation for you, the chill in your bones from exhaustion has setting in. 

Taking the first of the buckets you walked out onto the balcony and unceremonious dumped it over yourself. Ichor, dirt and sweat bled off with the water. Its perfectly hot, steam swirled about you in a thick mist. Drawing a deep breath, you grabbed the second bucket and dump that as well. Slower this time, being thorough with the grimier parts of yourself. Dripping and catching cold you half run to the tub. Steam rolls off the surface in wispy tendrils as you sink in. Moaning loudly, you sank down until only your head is above water. Resting your head upon the built-in headrest custom made by Dagna you allowed the water to sooth your aches. 

After some time, you heard the soft whine of metal. Cracking an eye open you realized you’d fallen asleep in the tub. Blinking a few times, you clear the fog from your vision. There in a pair of sleeping pants and a loose short sleeve shirt is Cullen. He’d just finished placing a few coals into the warming pan and was running it under your covers, heating your bed. “Cullen,” you smile lazily as you try to get up.

“Don’t move.” His velvet baritone is commanding but soft as he dumped the coals back into the hearth and set the warmer against the mantle. Your eyes fluttered shut again, the warmth of the water surrounding you, pulling you back into a comfortable ease. 

His hands through your hair stirred you again. “Cull…”

“Shh, let me. Please, love.” Again, that sultry voice filled your senses just a breath away from you ear, stirring your urges. But sleep stilled demanded your full attention. Giving into his motions, you allow him to dip your head back into the water, working a lather of soap and massaging your scalp. With a tenderness, only you know from the Commander, he scrubbed and washed the soap from your hair. Taking extra care to ring the water from it before applying a softening lotion. “Thank you.” You purred back to him as he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. “I have missed you, love.” He breathed airily, “but you need rest. The bed is ready.” 

He left your side for a brief moment, only to return with your brush. Ever careful he combed free the knots until it was soft and smooth. Twisting the sections about he weaved your hair into a perfect braid. Having two sisters he was adept at working with hair, something he shared only with you. Rising he reached for your towel, “come on.” 

Weakly you rose from the tub and allowed him to blanket you in the oversized towel. Again, his gentleness is something that rivaled the most tender mother. He takes the time to pat you down, wicking away as much wetness as he can before guiding you to your bed. Leaving you to change he returned his attention to the fire, throwing a few more smaller logs on before stoking it. “Stay.” You utter as you tug the soft silken nightgown over your head. 

“As you wish,” he dusted his hands off, turning to head towards you. Exhaustion threatened to rip this moment away from you and you wished against everything that it could last. Cullen’s eyes caught your internal struggle and his lip lifted just a hair in a lopsided smile. “You don’t have to leave for a week at least, we have time my love. Don’t push yourself. You clearly need rest. Commander’s orders.” He pulled back the blankets and helped you get settled, fluffing your pillow just as you like it. Then he hung your towel up before tugging his shirt up and over his head, setting his boots by the end of the bed. 

Curling up you were vaguely aware of his body as it dipped the bed and he wrapped his arms around your waist. Another caress of his lips against your neck and cheek before he uttered a promise for the morrow. “I love you,” he sighed settling in behind you. You fit against him, mold into him as if he were made for you and you for him. “Good night,” you slur as sleep tugs you down. Before it can claim you completely you utter your usual affectionate nickname for him and the rumbling chuckle that hums through your back helped carry you off to sleep.


End file.
